while Poor Cecco charged down the ash-heap, barking as he had never barked before, Jensina snatched pieces of cinder and crockery from the ground and flung them at the rats with all her strength—so desperately that she very nearly threw herself after them.
Even then the rats would not give way, until Jensina, seeing the fight was unequal, said: “Well, there is only one thing to be done. We must take our chance!” And raising herself on tiptoe and waving her arms, she called out several words in rat language, which she had learned during her stay in the field.
The effect was instantaneous. The rats, with looks of amazement, horror and alarm, turned at once and rushed off through the weeds. In a second there was not one left in sight!
The battle was over, but the friends were in sore plight. Bulka had been bitten twice, Poor Cecco was hoarse from barking, and Jensina had slipped on the ash-heap and rolled from top to bottom, grazing herself severely.
“Horrid mean things!” she cried, rubbing her knees and picking up her bundle, which had come undone in the skirmish. “They think they own everything here, and that no one has any rights but them. I’m glad I am going with you, for now nothing would induce me to stay here any longer!”
“At least,” said Poor Cecco, “they have gone now, so we have nothing to fear.”
